


The Last Touch of Winter

by FedonCiadale



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 15:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16726092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: King Torrhen, son of Jon and Sansa is urged by his half-brother Rickon, the Lord Raven, to visit Winterfell with his family. The three-eyed Raven Rickon tries to solve some problems and care for the future while he is at Winterfell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acourtofhopeanddreams](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=acourtofhopeanddreams).



> I wrestled a bit with this fic. Originally I intended to write from several perspectives, but that didn't work, so I stuck with one PoV. Be warned there is a sad ending.

_“The trick is not to think about what you saw for the future. Think about anything else. Look at the tree outside. Study its leaves. Look at your hands, follow the veins in your hands with your eyes. Concentrate on how your hair feels. Anything will do.”_ Rickon still heard Uncle Bran’s voice as if he was still alive and standing beside him, teaching him about how to be the Raven. _“Remember, cautious guiding is what you want, not hitting people on the head with what will happen.”_

Rickon studied his half-brother King Torrhen. The dark curls he had inherited from his father had a shine to them and his lashes cast a shadow on his cheeks. Torrhen was surprised at Rickon’s suggestion and looked at Rickon and his Lord Hand in dismay. “What do you mean a meeting of the grandchildren for mother’s nameday? Mother wants to see all of them? Even little Sam?”

Rickon just looked at his taller half-brother and raised an eyebrow, while Tyrion Lannister, the hand that had served three monarchs and was incredibly old, shook his head and voiced his impatience. “Your mother does not know that she will see all of them. Lord Jon wants to surprise his wife.”

Rickon concentrated on schooling his features to be as neutral as possible. _Drip, drip. The noise that had accompanied him since he first had seen that his mother would die._ He thought hard about his memories of Winterfell and prepared about delving into them to persuade Torrhen. Sometimes it felt like he had no connection to that little boy who had strolled through the halls of Winterfell before he knew what a Three-eyed Raven was and sometimes it felt like it only had been yesterday. Sometimes he wondered how his happy childhood could seem so far away and if he just imagined that it had been all laughter and joy, even with the threat of the Walkers.

“It would be great to visit Winterfell,” Torrhen admitted, “but Darra will not like it.”

Rickon could see that Torrhen surpressed the sigh that was about to leave his mouth. Rickon knew that all was not well between him and the Queen, but Torrhen never spoke about this with anybody. Somehow it all had gone downhill since her miscarriage. Travelling would be good for them.

“Spring is almost here, it won’t be too cold.”

“Not too cold. It will be cold enough to let a man’s water freeze while he pisses.” Tyrion snorted.

“I could leave Darra and Sam here in King’s Landing,” Torrhen mused, ignoring Tyrion’s comment.

Rickon just shook his head. “All the grandchildren,” he insisted. “Your father wants all of them.”

Rickon did his best to look Torrhen straight in the eye when the King scrutinized his face looking for clues, if this was important. _So very important, Torrhen._ He concentrated on the colour of Torrhen’s eyes, the eyes he shared with his half-brother, the blue eyes of their mother.

“Lord Tyrion could manage the realm in my absence,” Torrhen finally said.

The Lord Hand hand gave Rickon a scrutinizing look, his sharp eyes locking into the Raven’s gaze. Rickon gave him a smile that said nothing. _He is older than mother and Jon. But he will die only after his whole generation is gone._ He wondered how Lord Tyrion would feel about that.

After a while Tyrion turned and said: “Actually, I think I might join you. I haven’t been to the North in ages, and everything is quiet. It is a good opportunity to deliver my regards to your lady mother in person.”

Rickon wondered if Tyrion suspected something.

“Who will be acting in the king’s stead, then?” Torrhen asked his Hand.

“I would suggest you give Yoren Baraetheon a chance to prove his worth. He will take over my job soon, anyway.”

“I thought, he was on a tour to see the Free Cities with his parents?”.

“Not any more,” Rickon interjected. “He’ll arrive here tomorrow, without Gendry and Aunt Arya though.” Uncle Bran had never spilled anything about the future, but Rickon did on occasion. To blurt out unimportant things helped him to handle the pressure.

This time Torrhen made no attempt to hold back his sigh. “Did I ever tell you, that you get on my nerves, Lord Raven?”

Rickon grinned and bowed. “Repeatedly, your Grace.”

“It might be a good idea to be away from King’s Landing for a time. And the children should see Winterfell again. Even Darra might like it.”

As everytime when he tried to guide the future as Uncle Bran had called it, the tension left him, when a step was reached. Rickon dreaded some of the things he would have to say. _But I will see Winterfell!_


	2. Chapter 2

They ran into some bouts of bad weather on their way from White Harbour to Winterfell. In King’s Landing spring had already come, but here in the North the whole landscape still dreamt under a white cover. The little delay only added to Torrhen’s impatience to reach Winterfell, and one day Rickon had to restrain him, when sleet had begun to fall. Queen Darra was miserable, and the children became cold and in the end the King relented and called for a halt in a cosy inn. Torrhen then did his best to make sure his wife was warm, Rickon had to give him that, but as always, his consideration came just at the exact moment, when his wife had already given up. Her face of surprise always made Rickon smile and shake his head at the same time.

When they reached Winterfell, the sun stood high in the sky, but the day was still frosty. Torrhen was so impatient that he stood up in his saddle and then urged his horse forward.

“Race me to the gates” he called and Rickon spurred his horse. To the dismay of the Kingsguard they galloped on.

Torrhen was first, and he led his horse through the gates at a reckless speed. The welcoming party was not set up yet, but Torrhen did not care. He jumped from his horse and unceremoniously ran towards his mother and gathered her in his arms. Rickon could hear her musical laughter and his heart lifted and happiness descended on him like a ray of sunshine.

Torrhen almost lost his footing when another person bumped into him and joined in the embrace and he became invisible for a moment in a swirl of auburn hair streaked with white.

“Alys! I didn’t know I’d meet you here!” Torrhen hugged his sister.

Then Benjen was there and Rickon’s twin Eddard. The Raven jumped from his horse and joined them. Somehow, they were all laughing, and talking until Eddard interrupted their high spirits.

“Torrhen, you have to ride back again to the gates, so I can welcome you properly as is fit for the king.”

Torrhen gave an exaggerated gracious wave of his hand.

“If Lord Eddard insists…”

“Of course, I do. I did not drill the whole household for your arrival just to have this go to waste.”

“Where’s father?” Torrhen asked, his voice suddenly strained. He stealed a glance at his Lord Raven, but Rickon was caught up in the joy of the moment and for once did not attempt to school his face.

“There was a minor case of thievery in Wintertown, and father thought he could deal with it before your arrival. He’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”

Alys shoved them both towards their horses.

“Now, your grace, Lord Raven, get your arses back on your horses and take care to make a proper arrival.”

Torrhen and Rickon mounted again and made to join the royal party again. Torrhen rode to his wife’s side.

“Alys is here”, he told her.


	3. Chapter 3

Their premature arrival had spoiled the serenity of the greeting and the royal entrance was filled with laughter and good-natured humour. The Lord Hand complimented Lady Sansa, the princes eyed Eddard’s girls curiously, and Alys immediately took Queen Darra by the hand. Lord Jon arrived shortly before Eddard led them all into the hall. He still looked like Rickon remembered him, black curls bound back in a bun, his stride confident and he was greeted with joy.

Torrhen’s children then beset to their grandmother and she promised them to go sleighing in the afternoon. Rickon thought he managed to comport himself well. He smiled, laughed and was startled only once when he got a glimpse of the maid who would be the one to tell him about finding his mother gone.

In the afternoon Lady Sansa made good on her promise. Queen Darra had to persuade Brandon, her eldest, to join them. At fourteen he thought himself too old for children’s play, but when he saw that even his uncles Eddard, Rickon and Benjen made ready to participate, he came along. Rickon and his siblings fell into an easy banter, they fought on who could take the sledges, rolled around in the snow, showered each other with snowballs and Brandon soon gave up on trying to stand aloof. Little Sam was busy running after either his older siblings, his uncles or Eddard’s girls and by the end of the day they all were breathless. There was no part of the hill where the snow was untouched. Lord Jon had pulled the sledges tirelessly for his grandchildren, but Lady Sansa had excused herself after a while and had taken a seat next to Darra, catching her breath.

\---

Rickon stood up the next morning before dawn and went to the godswood, where he knew he was needed. Apparently, fresh snow had fallen over night that now covered the thin harsh crust that had formed after yesterday’s slight thaw. The snow had taken strange shapes on the ground. It looked like a tiny landscape with bizarre white trees. The red leaves of the weirwood tree made a stark contrast to the wintery background and steam seemed to ascend from the earth.

Lord Jon stood at the tree already, his hand touched the stem.

“Did you know I need to talk to you?”

Rickon just nodded, stepped beside his stepfather and raised his hand to the tree as well.

“I was a bit surprised that supposedly I invited everybody to Winterfell, but I think I managed to cover up before your mother noticed. I think I might have an idea why you used my name to let the family gather.” Jon looked at his hands.

“Did you not manage to persuade Arya to come? Sansa would have liked to have her here.”

“I tried. You know how she is. She persuaded Gendry to sail to Braavos ‘one more time’ as she called it.”

“Will it be the last time?”

Rickon fell silent awkwardly. How could he forget that Jon had dealt with Uncle Bran and that he was so very observant. _I should have worded that differently._

“You know, I dare not answer that.”

“I am sorry, Rickon. It is just…. You do know, how and when we all die, don’t you?”

“I can’t see beyond my own death. That is for the next Lord Raven.”

“Will there be a next?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“We paid the price, Uncle Jon, you know that. The White Walkers are gone, the Dragons are gone. Magic dwindles slowly, but it dwindles.”

“You haven’t called me Uncle Jon in such a long time.”

Rickon felt his heart give a pang. “Must be the feeling of being at home. I remember when you pulled my sledge, when you were still Jon Snow, not Jaehaerys Targaryen.”

Jon smiled, lost in memory for a little while.

“But there is still some magic here, isn’t it, here in Winterfell, at the weirwood.”

“You should know that better than most.”

There was a strange silence before Jon spoke again.

“I wondered about that. You know, my hair is as black as it was in my youth, my skin is barely wrinkled, my step is still light. Sansa complains about the little burdens of age. She is a bit short-winded, she tires easily, her eyesight is no what it was, yet I don’t feel any of this. Why is that?”

“I think you can answer that question yourself.”

“I was dead. Really dead.”

“Yes, you were.”

“So, a part of magic is alive in me.”

“Yes.”

“So, when I die, will all the magic be gone?”

“Yes and no. At the moment, there is still some out here. Enough for me to have visions, occasionally that is. The biggest part there is, is contained in you. If you release it, let it go, it will be loose. It is difficult to see what happens. My sight does not carry me neither beyond the death of magic nor beyond my own death only in glimpses. And the death of all magic is a possibility.”

“But when I let lose, as you call it, there will be a sudden burst of magic?”

“Yes.”

“Will it be enough to tip the scales? Enough to enable ice and fire magic again? Enough that dragons can be hatched or that White Walkers come again?”

“You really get to the heart of the problem.”

“As long as I live, the scales will be in balance?”

Rickon nodded, his eyes burning.

“How long will I live?”

“I can see some of the things the future Ravens tell me. It is all very blurry.”

“Centuries?”

_Why has this burden fallen upon me?_ Again Rickon nodded silently.

“I would outlive Sansa, you, our children, the grandchildren. But the sight would stay, there would be Lord Raven to look out for our family.”

“Yes. Or a Lady Raven. The next one will be a Lady, depending on the circumstances.”

“So, if I do not die, you and others will have the sight at least for a while. And the probability that Walkers or Dragons come again would be less?”

Rickon barked a laugh. “I don’t know. I cannot see, what happens if magic vanishes, I cannot see what happens beyond my own death, apart from the fact, that I will choose a successor. We don’t know enough about the magic of the Children of the Forest to be entirely sure. But as far as I can figure it out, you are right. If you let go of the magic, there is a chance, that the scales are tipped.”

Jon was silent for a long time.

“So, the Lord Raven cannot give me any counsel, but to stay alive as long as I can.”

Jon looked up and searched for an answer in Rickon’s face. Rickon held back his tears.

“So, if I die, I would leave you to possibly fight with Walkers and dragons, and if I don’t I’ll live on and on until I would be Jaehaerys the even older, or the oldest.”

Rickon laughed despite himself.

“I would have to leave. I cannot possibly live here without Sansa.”

“No, you would grow mad.” Rickon whispered.

“Why did you not tell me sooner?”

“Because it would only have given you grief, but now the time of a choice is upon you.”

“Sansa. She has not been well. How much time do we have left?”

“Spring.”

“Spring.”

They stood in silence for a long time.

Finally, Jon patted him on the shoulder.

“This Raven business really must be annoying to you as well.”

“Most of the time, it gives the satisfaction of being able to feel superior.”

“I guess, it is only fair, given that you know your own death.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rickon wished he could stop time. A week flew by, Prince Brandon lost some of the seriousness that had come when he stopped being a child. He played with his siblings as if he had never forgotten how to do it. Alaric was glad that he somehow had gotten his older brother back and little Sam followed his brothers everywhere and they seemed to suffer it with patience. Sometimes they led Sam to his grandmother and Sansa told him stories. Eddard’s girls were glad for the breaks. Although they must know Sansa’s stories by heart, they always listened in as well.

When Rickon happened to sit close by, he closed his eyes. His mother’s voice had not changed much. With his eyes closed he could picture himself at her knees as a child, listening to her stories, his twin Eddard close by, at a time when their younger half-siblings had not yet been born. He wished his stepfather would join them more often, but he could not blame him for avoiding him.

He did not expect his mother to approach him as well. One morning she knocked at his door and determinedly took him to the weirwood. He had not foreseen that and wondered if he had done something to nudge the future in another direction. Had he said too much to his stepfather?

When they reached the weirwood, Rickon tried every trick that Uncle Bran had told him. He studied the red leaves of the weirwood, he looked at the light of dawn transforming the snow into glittering crystals, he let himself smell the black earth beneath the weirwood. It was no use. His mother’s first question shattered his guard.

“I won’t see Arya again, will I?”

Rickon shook his head, his eyes suddenly and shockingly filling with tears.

“Nor will any of us. Neither Gendry nor she will return.”

“Has she died already?” Sansa’s voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “Or do you not know?”

Rickon drew a deep breath. “To be precise, she returns in no possible future I can see. I must assume that Gendry and her die in Essos.”

His mother hung her head.

“She did not take your letter seriously then?”

“How did you know, I wrote a letter?” Rickon asked astonished.

She laughed abruptly and shortly.

“My dear son, all my children and grandchildren are here for my nameday? How stupid do you think I am? I am not the stupid girl I was!”

Rickon smiled through his tears.

“Now, my dear mother, say it! You were a stupid girl with stupid dreams who never learned.”

“Alys tells that to her daughters all the time. I don’t know how I feel about that,” his mother admitted.

“It won’t do them any harm.”

“I suppose there is also little chance I see Brienne one more time?”

Rickon shrugged. This was such a dangerous conversation. He tried to get a grip on his feelings.

His mother studied his face and then she sighed.

“There is no use to beat about the bush, Rickon. I feel tired all the time, I’m short-winded, I wake up in the night and my heart beats as if I have run for ages. I am old, and I will be gone soon.”

She touched his cheek tenderly and wiped one of his tears away, just with the tip of her finger.

“Thank you for bringing everyone here. It means almost everything to me.”

“They all love you.”

His mother laughed again. “Queen Darra seems to be a bit in awe of me.”

Rickon smiled. “You are the queen of love and beauty. Everyone knows that. And she is just the Queen of the seven kingdoms.”

“Which I never was.”

“Will they sort out their differences? Will they heal? Torrhen and her?”

“Very likely.”

His mother sighed.

“What about you, Rickon? Will there be someone to share your burden, will there be love for you, too?”

She had taken him unawares yet again.

“Maybe.” Unbidden he saw a glimpse, like he had seen occasionally. Dark ebony skin, a ready deep laugh, the bright clothes of a summer islander. He closed his eyes. _Concentrate on something else._ He looked at his mother’s hair. White as the snow surrounding them it was, but it was still full, gleaming in the light of the rising sun.

“Darkness.” His mother said.

“What?”

“Darkness and a void. That is what awaits us, Jon said. You know. I always told him, that he does not truly know. He might have forgotten what was beyond. He might have not yet been at the place we are meant to go. If there was only darkness and a void, how did his soul come back?”

Rickon had no answer and just took mother’s hand.

“I do not worry about me. I worry about Jon. He tries to hide it from me. He complains about his bones hurting, that he lost his vigour. It’s all a sham. He even looks barely older than forty. He even tried to rub ashes in his hair, so I would think he was turning grey.” She scoffed.

Rickon could not help himself, he had to laugh at that.

“Seriously, can you tell me, what will happen?” She looked at him pleadingly.

Rickon shook his head. “All I can tell you, is that it is not destiny. He can choose. Like you could choose all your life. The future has many, many crossroads. That is why it is so difficult to find a way.”

They were silent after that. His mother pressed his hands.

That was how Prince Brandon found them.

“Uncle Rickon, Grandma, there is a group of men approaching. They show the quartered Lion of Lannister and the sun and moon of Tarth”. His voice was so excited that it sounded as high-pitched as that of his younger brother Alaric. Prince Brandon adored Lord Gerran Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Tarth.

Rickon felt at loss. Like the talk with his mother he had not seen this. _What kind of_ _piece is set on the board now?_ He was tempted to stay behind and delve into visions at the weirwood, here where magic was still strongest, but he also knew that it would be dangerous to have another look at the future now, when everything was shifting. So, he went along when his mother took his arm and leaned on him on her way to the hall. Rickon smiled at her and tried just to live in the moment.


	5. Chapter 5

Rickon was the only one not disappointed that Brienne had not made the journey to Winterfell, and this was only because he had known that she would not come. Gerran did his best to be good company and he soon had everyone laughing at a silly story that supposedly had happened to him on the road. Rickon had always suspected that half of Gerran’s tales were just that, but he did lift everyone’s mood.

It was only well into the night, when the children were long to bed, and even the King and the Queen had gone to bed, that Gerran became more serious.

He looked at Rickon’s mother with his astonishing blue eyes and took her hand and kissed it.

“Lady Sansa,” he said. His mien was earnest, and the twinkling of laughter had vanished from his eyes.

“My mother really regrets that she could not come herself, but even with a litter it would have been too exhausting for her.”

“I would have liked to see her again.” His mother’s voice held only part of the sadness Rickon knew she felt.

“She bade me to fulfil a duty, she feels she has long neglected.” Gerran stood and fetched a bundle.

He unwrapped it and uncovered a sword. Rickon’s heart clenched when he saw it. Somehow the roads of the future had led to this moment. _And I did not see it!_ He stole a glance at Lord Jon, but his too youthful face showed no sign, that he understood the importance.

“Oathkeeper”, Sansa whispered. She wiped her eyes and then took Gerran’s hand. “Your mother is the truest knight that ever walked the earth.”

Gerran’s answering smile was tinged with a touch of sadness. “My father used to say that as well.”

“Your father was a lucky man,” Lord Jon said. “He died in the arms of the woman he loved.”

He leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek.  “Ice has come back to the Starks.”

“Let’s hope that does not mean, that winter will linger! My old bones have quite enough of the cold.” That was Tyrion Lannister.

“Leave it to you, uncle Tyrion, to spoil a perfectly serious mood,” Gerran chided him and soon everybody was laughing again and trading memories. Rickon wished the night would never end.


	6. Chapter 6

Sleep eluded him. Worry was eating him from the inside. Should he try to have a look at the future again? Was all different now? Would it be dangerous? He felt better during the day, when the castle was alive. The princes and Eddard’s girls had taken to play with each other and Rickon even caught Queen Darra at laughing out loudly. Despite her misgivings about the cold North, her health had improved, and her cheeks had gained a rosy colour.

But at night, Rickon turned in his sheets until he thought he would go mad. Nothing Uncle Bran had told him helped. Knowing what the future held, often felt like a terrible burden, but not knowing if the future was still the same or if it might have changed was worse. He could almost hear his Uncle. _Look, learn, decide a course, stay on that course, try not to be distracted by the many roads the future can take._ When he had been young it had sounded so easy. Rickon remembered the tourney at Riverrun when he had made a fortune by betting via proxies. Uncle Bran had not been amused, when he had learned about that. Even after so many years, Rickon shivered with the memory. Rickon chided himself. _Nothing will happen until the thaw sets in. Just sleep, bloody fool._

When spring finally touched Winterfell with tender fingers, Rickon was caught by surprise. He woke up and sensed that something was different. Being all slow-witted for lack of sleep it took him a moment to realise that there was a fresh smell on the air and that there was a distinct sound of dripping water. He jumped up with a start, his heart beating erratically. He tried to remember what he had said to his mother yesterday, how she had looked. It hit him then. “ _I think I’ll go to sleep. I am a bit tired.”_ How had he not got that?

He dressed hastily and made for the door and almost ran into Torrhen. The king was pale, his eyes red and Rickon’s heart plummeted.

“What? What is it?”

“Mother,” Torrhen panted. “Father. The weirwood.”

Rickon followed his brother. His mind was reeling. “The weirwood?” _That is unexpected. Where was that maid? The one who should have found mother?_

“Darra and I wanted to look at the snow melting, and we strolled through the Godswood. And there they lay.”

_They?_ The future had taken an unexpected turn. Torrhen stopped to hammer at Eddard’s door and Benjen and Alys and soon all the siblings were on their way.

Darra awaited them. She knelt beside two figures that lay on a patch of earth where the snow had melted. Tears were running down her cheeks and she held Lady Sansa’s hand as if to wake her.

His mother looked peaceful as if she were in a deep slumber, but Rickon almost didn’t recognize Lord Jon. His hair had gone white and his face was as wrinkled as that of his wife. He lay by her side his face turned to his wife’s, his hand holding her left hand.

_What has happened? He can’t be dead._

Rickon fell to his knees beside the man who had been his father in all but name. “Uncle Jon?”

_He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be dead, he was supposed to leave._

The sobs of his siblings were a distant noise to him, something he did not understand. _How, how?_

Rickon looked around, his mind in a daze. He rose slowly and suddenly felt faint. He stretched out his hand to the tree to steady himself and almost snatched it back immediately as if burned. The magic almost felt like a jolt and he could feel visions flooding him stronger than he ever had felt them before.

It was then that he saw it. Just at the roots of the tree at the other side where the Lord and Lady of Winterfell lay, there was a shimmer as if someone had thrown a heap of glowing coal at the roots of the tree. Rickon rounded the tree.

Nestled between the roots of the tree, was a sword, bent out of shape and twisted into a circle, shining with a blue sheen, not the red ripples it had had, when Rickon had last seen it in Gerran Lannister’s hand. And encircled by the sword was something that looked like glowing coals if a glow could exist without the coals. Rickon stared at it in wonder.

_The magic. Contained. The weirwood. Fire and Ice. He must have let loose of the magic here._

Rickon’s hand found the weirwood and he saw. _Jon carrying a heavily breathing Sansa, his face determined. He was speaking in a low and tender voice. He laid her down at the tree, he drew the sword. His hands began to glow, and somehow, he twisted the sword, and while he twisted, the glow slowly left his body. His hair turned white, he dropped the circle, moving his limbs with difficulty. He reached for his wife._

Rickon heard the dripping of water, and finally he understood what it had meant. Finally, the tears that had been enclosed into his heart were freely flowing, while his mind was flooded with visions as many as he had never seen before.


End file.
